“‘Let us have peace.’ The expressions of these kindly feelings were not restricted to a section of the country, nor to a division of the people. They came from individual citizens of all nationalieties; from all denominations — the Protestant, the Catholic, and the Jew; and from the various societies of the land — scientific, educational, religious, or otherwise. Politics did not enter into the matter at all.”

An ineffectual, if not disastrous, president, ruined by bankruptcy after being defrauded of his estate, and dying of throat cancer, Ulysses S. Grant, Union hero of the American Civil War, agreed to publish his memoirs. He needed the money to try to secure an economically stable future for his family.

Samuel Clemens, whose pen name was Mark Twain, served as his editor. In the last month of his life, Grant struggled to dictate his notes to a stenographer and managed to finish his memoirs shortly before his death. For Clemens, witnessing the tenacity of the dying man, Grant became, once more, a heroic figure.

The memoirs focused almost entirely on the old general’s actions during the war. Still considered among the greatest of military memoirs, the two volume set became an immediate bestseller, praised for its high literary qualities. Grant’s style was straightforward and compelling. Clemens compared the book to Julius Caesar’s Commentaries. Gertrude Stein admired the book and said that she could not think of Grant without weeping.

His Memoirs were a financial and critical success. Thousands of war veterans and their families made a ready market for the book. Grant’s family, who received seventy-five percent of the royalties, quickly re-established their fortune, receiving nearly a half million dollars from the book.

During Fall Semester, 2015, University of Utah graduate students in SPAN6900-2 Analyzing Texts: Form and Content visited Rare Books. During the third and final session with Rare Books, the students were introduced to late 20th century/early 21st century fine press and artists’ books. The session ended with the premiere viewing of our copy of DOC/UNDOC Documentado/Undocumented Ars Shamánica Performática, purchased in September. Student response was so strong that managing curator Luise Poulton, in her typical over-enthusiastic way, exclaimed, “You should post your thoughts on Open Book!” Prof. Isabel Dulfano, in her own enthusiastic way, immediately took up the suggestion and made this a new assignment, right then and there. Bless the beleaguered grad students! Rare Books is pleased to present these responses.

This is a brief analysis of DOC/UNDOC Documentado/Undocumented Ars Shamánica Performática, published in 2014, by Moving Parts Press. Our class had the opportunity to explore a variety of printed works. Each book carried with it a unique style and background. Many of these books transcended the traditional concept of bookmaking to create works of art.

One such work of art our class viewed is DOC/UNDOC Documentado/Undocumented Ars Shamánica Performática produced by Guillermo Gomez Peña, Jennifer González and Felicia Rice. At first glance, this piece is nothing more than an indiscriminate collection of bric-a-brac thrust into a secondhand gun safe and pronounced “book art” by its creators and curators. This work takes a sizable step away from the paradigmatic, Eurocentric style of bookmaking. This book has obvious roots in both the Fluxus and Gesamtkunstwerk artistic styles wherein books are made to be interactive, exploratory, and incorporate a variety of media (Backstory). All books are interactive, but this piece engages the reader, or participant, through audio, tactile, visual, and olfactory components. Gomez Peña states the piece’s “interactive dimension may be its main contribution to the field of experimental book art, or rather ‘performative book art’” (DOC/UNDOC).

The reader, to whom I will refer as one who interacts with this “book” from here on, may push buttons and turn knobs to hear commentary on the various items contained therein. Upon pushing these buttons, the reader hears Gomez Peña’s voice providing supplemental musings regarding each object in the box. The box contains mirrors surrounded by lights, in front of which the reader is encouraged by, Gomez Peña’s recorded utterances, to try on various wearable items such a stethoscope, sunglasses, and makeup.

The “book” is accompanied by videos of Gomez Peña’s provocative performance art. The reader sees Gomez Peña pretend to wield a loaded gun, cut his tongue and ears with scissors, place a hot iron on his chest, and make unintelligible sounds with a mouth full of ink which, according to Gomez Peña, sent him to the hospital. The piece also contains printed material with poetry arranged in a fresh format. The reader must scrupulously follow each word in each poem, as the preceding and succeeding words may be arranged in unusual, wave-like, patterns. There are a total of 15 printed monologues that are lyrical in nature and even contain acotaciones, or stage directions, to ensure each is read according to Gomez Peña’s penchant for performance art.

It is one thing to simply describe this piece, and it is quite another endeavor to try to explain what the piece means. The full title, DOC/UNDOC Documentado/Undocumented Ars Shamánica Performática, urges the reader to think about what it means to be documentado in Spanish and what is meant by the term “undocumented” in the U.S. The word “undocumented,” as it is used in the U.S., is politically charged and portrayed as inherently negative. The term is a symbol of racist stereotypes that robs immigrants of their true identity as members of the human family and is synonymous with powerlessness and a lack of human rights. In Gomez Peña’s poem, “What I chose not to do tonight,” the author states “when you cross the border it is as if your identity splits into two and one is permanently questioning the other” (What I chose not to do tonight). The text suggests that upon immigrating, one always possess two identities, an insider and an outsider, as both a documented citizen of one country and an undocumented citizen of another.

The author uses the terms colonial and colonized in his poems to explore this dichotomy of documented and undocumented identities. In one poem entitled “Flagrantly stupid acts of transgression,” the author describes giving an audience member a knife and asking her to cut his abdomen with it. The poem reads “’here… my colonized body,’ I said… and she went for it, inflicting on me my 45th scar, right her on my soul” (Flagrantly stupid acts of transgression). This speaks to the idea of being colonized by a dominant culture. The author insinuates that the U.S. harms immigrants through laws and economic dominance to maintain a distinction between the documented and undocumented.

This poem, and the entire piece, illustrates how undocumented persons are thought of as nameless, faceless, subjects of a colonial economy whose purpose is to suffer the misfortunes of supplying cheap labor to an empirical nation and not participate in it fully as citizens. Gomez Peña states that suffering, such as the suffering demonstrated in the poem, of migrants who “move from their proper place without documents is a direct consequence of a failed global project, but their suffering appears inconsequential. The fact that men, women, and children risk their lives by crossing the desert to escape violence and to make a few dollars to send back home remains insignificant” (On immigration 1). The interactive contents of this piece help to bring significance to the professedly insignificant acts of immigrants.

The objects in the case serve to give prominence to the seemingly unimportant objects that represent aspects of Hispanic/Latino life that contribute to the identity of the undocumented. There are hot sauce packets, Catholic trinkets of Virgins, a lucha libre mask, a colmillo de coyote, oils, obsidian stones, and countless other objects. Each object must carry some personal meaning to one or more person involved in the creation of the piece. These objects may have significance to a wide audience of Hispanic/Latino readers. This could serve to illustrate the fact that there are many parts of one’s life that go undocumented (Commentary). There are elements of identity and worth that are not recorded in the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services department.

The packaging of this piece is important also. It’s significant that so much content, such as videos, printed poems, artwork, reliquaries, sounds, tastes, and smells, are concealed within a relatively nondescript box. The box is metallic, cold, and has sharp corners and edges. The only writing on the exterior is: “Documentado Undocumented.” A parallel could be drawn between this and the lives of undocumented persons in the U.S. Labels are powerful in that they mask one’s true identity. Superficially, all that government, or law enforcement agencies, can perceive when they view the Hispanic/Latino population is whether or not they are legal citizens. In actuality, within the cold, metallic container projected on them by stereotypes and sociocultural norms, there is much more to be discovered. Within the box, awaits a world of exploration, emotion, worth, and identity regardless of the label on the box. Guillermo Gomez Peña, Jennifer González and Felicia Rice have successfully pulled off the creation of an intimate medium of expressing these important themes of citizenship, identity, colonization, and cultural disparity through this piece.

Antonio Frasconi was born in Buenos Aries and grew up in Montevideo, Uruguay. His parents, of Italian descent, had moved from Italy to Argentina during World War I. At the age of twelve, he began apprenticing with a printer. Frasconi liked the idea of making multiples in order to offer art at reasonable prices. Frasconi moved to the United States from Argentina in 1945 at the end of World War II on a scholarship to study at the Art Students League in New York City. In 1952, he received a Guggenheim Fellowship. In 1959, he was a runner-up for the Caldecott Medal, an honor awarded to the illustrator of the best American picture book for children. The House That Jack Built, was also written by Frasconi and remains a favorite today. He was elected into the National Academy of Design as an associate member and became a full Academician in 1969. In 1982, Frasconi was named Distinguished Teaching Professor of Visual Arts at the State University of New York at Purchase. Frasconi illustrated more than one hundred books. His woodcuts appeared on album and magazine covers, holiday cards, calendars, posters and a U.S. postage stamp. His work is in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, the New York Public Library, the National Gallery of Art, the Smithsonian and private collections.

19 Poemas de Hispano America joins several other pieces illustrated by Frasconi in the rare book collections:

12 Fables of Aesop
New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1954
PA3855 E5 W48

Linoleum blocks by Antonio Frasconi illustrate fables adapted by Glenway Wescott. The book was designed by Joseph Blumenthal and honored by the American Institute of Graphic Arts as one of the year’s 50 best books. Edition of nine hundred and seventy-five signed copies. University of Utah copy is no. 724.

Printed to honor Antonio Frasconi by the Republic of Uruguay at the 34th Biennale in Venice. Color reproductions of woodcuts printed on a continuous strip of paper folded accordion style. Bound in grey cloth boards. Issued in black slipcase with printed paper label. University of Utah copy gift of Gabriel Rummonds.

Broadside designed and printed by Antonio Frasconi and John Risseeuw “in support of the churches that take part in the new underground railroad known as Sanctuary.” – from the colophon. University of Utah copy nol. 123, signed by the designers.

From Fantasies and Hard Knocks, Gabriel Rummonds, 2015: “…in October 1983 Antonio Frasconi invited me to give a talk to a group of art students at the State University of New York at Purchase. During that visit he inquired about the Calvino project and I reluctantly had to admit that I still had not published it – partly because I had been unable to find an artist who would work within my specified parameters. I related the problems I had had working with Alan Sundberg and Sergio Pausig. Antonio, who had always wanted to illustrate at least one PWP book, asked me to send the manuscript to him, saying he would like to give it another try. Knowing of his wonderful landscapes and not wanting to risk disappointment again, I gave up on the idea of having circular illustrations and suggested that he use the geographic locations mentioned in the story as themes for his illustrations. And that is exactly what he did with great success.”

English translation by William Weaver (1923-2013). The aesthetic and technical challenge of binding this edition inspired Craig Jensen to pursue edition binding over an intended career in book conservation. It also marked the beginning of his work with master printer Gabriel Rummonds. Illustrated with four multi-colored woodcuts by Antonio Frasconi. Printed on an 1847 Washington handpress by Gabriel Rummonds and Alessandro Zanella. Some pages printed on double leaves. Type is handset Post Mediaeval cast by H. Berthold A.G. Paper handmade at the Cartiere Enrico Magnani, printed damp. Tan quarter leather with paste paper sides by Antony O’Hara. Binding is a tight joint, in-boards style, incorporating a spine hollow and handsewn silk endbands. Housed in a cloth-covered, drop-spine box with the Plain Wrapper Press device set in a recess on front board. Edition of seventy-five numbered copies, signed by the poet and the artist. University of Utah copy is no. 4, printed for Tom and Elfie Rummonds.

Carlos Oquendo de Amat was born in Puno, Peru, but spent most of his childhood on the streets of Lima. Puno was a provincial capital on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Amat’s father was a Sorbonne-educated progressive newspaper publisher, a prominent member of Puno society and a vocal opponent of Peru’s conservative Catholic establishment. Upon the death of his father in 1918, Amat and his mother moved from genteel comfort in Pano to poverty in Lima, at a time when the city experienced growth and transformation in the form of new working and professional classes. Amat became a part of an extensive avant-garde poetry movement in Lima. Cinco metros de poemas is his only publication, written between 1923 and 1925, and printed in 1927, when Amat was 19. The original publication, produced in Lima by La Editorial Minerva, was printed on a single sheet of folded paper five meters long. The lines were composed in varying layouts throughout the sheet. The poem-object is reminiscent of earlier and contemporary European modernist movements that included poets such as Baudelaire and known to the literati in Lima. Amat joined the Communist Party, and spent the rest of his life in and out of jail for dissent. He contracted tuberculosis in prison. He was deported to Panama, from where he managed to get to Spain. He died there shortly after he arrived and just before the Spanish civil war. Translation of Cinco metros de poemas by David M. Guss, with an introduction by Guss. Illustrated with woodcuts by Antonio Frasconi. Formed as one folded sheet, five meters long. Typeface is Goudy modern. Paper is Mohawk. Edition of three hundred copies.